


The Soul Cages

by Annariel



Category: Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Female Protagonist, Fix-It, Misses Clause Challenge, Original Character(s), POV Female Character, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Post-Apocalypse, Reincarnation, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/Annariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the Age of Unreason.  Isabeau Navarre and Count Dracula find themselves on a mission to prevent `Black' Ralph McAddan obtaining immortality; but the mission also holds a solution to their own troubled love lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eugenie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kajivar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kajivar/gifts).



> I read my assignment and both Bram Stoker's Dracula and Ladyhawke were listed and my brain said, well, _obviously_ , these two fandoms go together. The rest sort of happened after I read Kajivar's dear Yuletide letter though I suspect this is not the take on the Dracula prompts that she was expecting. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to [VelvetMouse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetMouse) for spelling and grammar beta-reading, despite unfamiliarity with either canon, and a certain amount of hand-holding over last minute changes. I didn't run the final version past her though, so any spelling and grammar errors herein are entirely my own. Thanks also to hippo-[Naraht](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Naraht) for linking us up when I was having a massive flaily beta-reader crisis on the 17th.
> 
> Apologies to Sting for nicking the title of one of his songs. The story has absolutely nothing to do with the song, beyond the fact that the phrase "The Soul Cages" set me thinking.

The 14th January 2483 started much as any other. I arose at 6am, checked that the fires had been lit and that the classrooms were ready for the day's work. As usual, the maid had rushed cleaning the grates and I had to go below stairs and ask that she sweep the floors. Then I went to the staff room for our morning meeting.

The Lady Isabeau was already there in her accustomed place at the head of the long table, with notes for the day on top of a stack of books she was preparing to use in her own classes. There was an open crate of papers and textbooks in one corner of the room; a new shipment from some library on the continent that was being broken up. Isabeau had agents who would send her what little they could scavenge on such occasions. I flicked idly through the top-most book while we waited for the rest of the staff. I confess I understood little. I am not a chemist and the book was full of the strange names of proteins and molecules. The paper was yellow and old and becoming brittle. Someone would need to copy it out before long.

The staff meeting was brief and we were all dismissed to our lessons. I toiled that morning with the younger classes, attempting to explain electricity and magnetism to them with the few working models the school had access to. My work was to instill in them the sense that the Age of Unreason must inevitably pass, as had the Age of Reason before it.

It was mid morning when the front door of the school shook under great pounding blows. The girls all looked up, for we had few visitors. Deliberately so. The Republic of Norham may have been a beacon of civility in the wilderness but even here the forces of law and order were stretched thin. There was protection in our seclusion amid the rolling hills of Darley Dale. I heard Isabeau's voice in the hallway and that of a man, but I was engaged in a physics demonstration that was misbehaving and dismissed the matter quickly from my mind.

As I was gathering up my books during morning break Miss Cavendish entered the classroom.

"Oh, Miss Wakely, can you take this up to Lady Isabeau," said she, putting a hefty file of paper down upon the desk.

"Has she asked for it?" I was a little surprised, more that Miss Cavendish should be asking me to run her errands than that the Lady Isabeau should be wanting files and documents.

"She has but that man that came with her terrifies me, and I would rather not suffer under his gaze again."

"Terrifies you?" I was curious. Emily Cavendish came from dull unimaginative stock and was not prone to flights of fancy.

"I swear he looked right through me and it sent a chill into my heart. Would you take it up?"

I'll confess I was curious, so I acquiesced and picked up the folder. I carried it up the bare wooden stairs to the second floor where the Lady Isabeau kept a small study to entertain visitors.

I knocked on the door and entered straightaway since the Lady Isabeau has never been much of a one for ceremony. I was momentarily arrested by the sight before me. Isabeau was standing before the window with her back to me. She was wearing her dark blue day dress that swept down to the floor in simple lines. Her blonde hair glowed in the pale winter sunlight that shone through the window. Her back was straight and her head held up tall and proud. I knew instinctively that she had received bad news.

However it was the man who drew my gaze and arrested my attention. He was a fraction taller than Isabeau and his body appeared strong and virile, but his face was lined with great age and his hair was purest white. He wore a long red cloak that pooled in folds around his feet and must have hindered his steps as he walked. I felt the strangest feeling as I looked upon him, as if I had met him someplace before.

He was standing by the fireplace as I entered, but on catching sight of me he staggered as if felled by a blow and sank into the armchair by the fire. Isabeau turned and she frowned at me.

"Miss Wakely, I was not expecting you." There was an undercurrent of anger in her voice which I could not fathom.

"Miss Cavendish asked me to bring up this file," I said, holding forward the pile of paper.

The man said something, it sounded like the name "Elisabeta" and his hand was suddenly about my wrist though I was not aware of him rising from his chair. His fingers were bitterly cold and his grasp felt like a vice. I think I may have gasped.

"Vladimir! Let her go. You are scaring her!" Isabeau's tone was sharp.

The man, Vladimir, retreated into himself as if burned by the sound of her voice. In the blink of an eye, he was seated in the armchair by the fire once more.

"Thank you Miss Wakely. You may place the file on the table," Isabeau said.

I nodded and hurriedly placed the bundle on the table, all the time aware of the man's gaze upon me. I paused once I had closed the door of the room, to lean against the solid wood and catch my breath. My heart was thumping in my chest and I knew I had been in the presence of powerful magic, of the kind that had swept aside the Age of Reason and ushered in this world.

"You should have told me!" The man's voice rang out from the room, loud and angry.

"And what would you have done? Thrown aside everything and pursued her without thought for the consequences, as you have done in the past?" Isabeau's tone was equally angry.

"You had no right. I have atoned for my sins."

"I had every right to protect those in my care," Isabeau shot back and then their voices fell and I was suddenly aware that I was eavesdropping on confidences.

However, it was difficult to push aside my questions upon a matter which clearly concerned me deeply. I resolved to seek an audience with Isabeau as soon as her guest had departed.


	2. Isabeau

I had been running the seminary in the peak district for maybe a century when these events unfolded. The Republic was one of the most advanced communities of its kind that we had come across in our travels. It had a working police force and armies, reasonable rule of law, and was situated far enough from any of the great sorcerers or sources of magic that it had been left relatively untroubled and stable. A small effort was already underway to retrieve the old knowledge and a tiny university was founded in Nottingham itself. I was weary with travel and the long sense of things retreating backwards into the days of my youth. So I started a school, even though I knew Navarre's temperament was ill-suited for training the young, especially not in the sciences in which he had never taken much of an interest.

When I rose one morning in the second year of the school and found him gone, my heart broke a little further, but it had been breaking for so long that I paid it little mind. Navarre had been distant from me since the birth of our first child at the tail end of the 13th century. While Navarre was unfailingly gentle, understanding and polite, it was as if something went from him into my first born and never returned. I loved him still, for he had many good qualities, but he was not the man I married. Through the years, even my memory of that Etienne Navarre began to fade into the mists of time.

It had been many years since I had heard more than the briefest news of Navarre when Vladimir Dracula arrived at my door. He brought the ill tidings that Captain Navarre had fallen into the hands of Lord Ralph McAddan. Tales of McAddan's activities had become more alarming all through that hot dry summer. His father had been a lowland chieftain somewhere on the Scottish borders, but had spent his years campaigning northwards, subduing the fertile valleys between the crumbling remains of Edinburgh and Glasgow and then pushing up into the Highlands. It was from this power base that Black Ralph had swept south, raiding across the barren borderland and down as far as the edges of the Republic. Winter had sent him back to his heartland once more, but his activities were a matter of concern throughout the Republic and it didn't surprise me to discover that Navarre had had McAddan in his sights.

Vladimir sat hunched in front of my fire. His face was lined and aged. It often was when his body was starved of the life blood that invigorated it. Since he had vowed to me that he would turn his feet onto a righteous path, his visage had been thus more often than the handsome and vigorous form it assumed when his thirst was sated.

"We were scouting around McAddan's new fastness. It is a vast stone fortress. He must have many engineers among his men as well foot soldiers."

"Scotland had a reputation for engineers long before the rise of Unreason," I pointed out.

Vladimir made an impatient gesture with his hands. "This McAddan is no sorcerer. I am impressed he has achieved so much with so little innate power."

"That's good for us, surely."

"Not necessarily. He understands technology, science and magic and how to bend them to his own uses. He will be a fearsome enemy. This age of magic has made people forget the power of science."

"What happened?"

"I went south from his new castle for a few days, to hear the rumours that were spoken deeper in McAddan's lands. When I returned, Navarre was gone and the talk in the village was full of the tales of his capture."

"It would have been easier to kill him. Why capture him?"

Vladimir rose and stared deeply into the fire. "Do you know why it is you have so long a life?"

I shook my head. "It has always been a mystery. I can only assume there is some purpose I have yet to fulfil."

"You still think God's will drives the world?"

We have had this debate many times and I must have scowled for Vladimir chuckled coldly to himself.

"The rumours in the town were that McAddan seeks the secret of Navarre's long life. Navarre will, I think, survive so long as that secret is not revealed. I found his camp and carried his sword back here to you. You are needed I think."

It might have been more than a decade since I last saw Etienne's face but I had taken vows that were not easily broken. It was not hard to form the resolve to head northwards and see whether I could achieve what Vladimir could not. I turned to the window, looking out over the courtyard of the school and turning over in my mind the arrangements that would be needed before I could leave.

And then Eugenie Wakely entered the room.

For many years I had kept her existence hidden from Vladimir Dracula. She is the living image of Wilhelmina Harker who, in turn, was the living image of Elisabeta, Dracula's first wife. The Count was, and is, a firm believer in reincarnation and indeed, Eugenie Wakely, Mina Harker and Elisabeta Dracula provide weighty evidence in support of the idea. Six hundred years ago Vladimir destroyed Mina Harker's best friend, almost killed her husband, and tore a swathe of destruction from Transylvania to England and back again driven by his passion for that one woman.

It was not a situation I wished to see repeated.

Van Helsing wrote to Navarre and me when he first formed an inkling of the threat that confronted him. We hastened to meet up with his pursuit of the Count and arrived at Castle Dracula not long after Harker and his friends. Far too late, of course, to be of much assistance in the fight.

Van Helsing sent me into the chapel to find Mina. He believed a woman's touch was needed and he counseled me that Mina Harker was as pure of heart as Count Dracula was villainous. I found her in the chapel, her long dark hair spread across the red of Dracula's cloak and the light of heaven shining upon them both.

"He is redeemed," she said on hearing my footfalls.

I looked upon his face and I could have sworn he was dead. Mina was already reaching for the sword with which to behead him when he stirred and I saw the faint ghosting of his breath in the cold air of the Transylvanian winter.

"Hold," I placed my hand on Mina's to stay her and she looked up at me in surprise.

"Who are you?"

I shook my head, unwilling to start on long explanations. "Van Helsing sent for me."

I knelt by Dracula's side. He was pinned to the floor by the stake which was pushed firmly into his heart.

"This should have killed you." I said.

"I know," he whispered. "I believe God has forgiven me."

"But then you would be at peace." I didn't know that for sure but I could think of no reason why he should have attained grace in that instant.

"Mina has saved me. My love for her." His voice trailed away in a choke and his hand clutched at his chest.

"She is married," I pointed out as gently as I could.

"I would give up anything for my prince," Mina interrupted, and her tears fell freely.

"Perhaps it is your goodness alone that has given him a chance," I mused.

"I am still vampire. I can feel it within me, even though the rage has lessened."

"Do you swear to turn to the ways of righteousness?" I asked. "Will you set your feet upon this path that has been offered you?"

"I will swear. I will swear by my love for Elisabeta."

"Swear now," I commanded, placing my hands upon the stake.

"I swear by the soul of my dear Elisabeta to dedicate my life from henceforth to the path of good."

I pulled the stake from his body. Blood spurted forth and pooled around us on the floor of the chapel. But Dracula took deep gasping breaths and the hole in his chest seemed to close.

Mina pulled him up into her arms, kissing him desperately and passionately until I had to intervene, placing my hands upon her shoulders and drawing her gently away.

"You are married." I reminded her.

"He does not love her as I do." Dracula's eyes darkened with anger.

"But he loves her truly, as she does him. Not all of us can have love in the way that we might wish it. This, I think, is your first test." I fear my voice may have become bitter at that point.

"But what will become of us?" Mina pleaded to me.

"Mrs Harker, you must return to your husband. Dracula will remain here. I believe he has a hard road ahead of him if he ever wishes to obtain true forgiveness."

She looked long and hard at me, but I saw understanding and acceptance dawn in her face. She nodded once, her eyes bright with tears. Then she turned back to Dracula but stopped his kisses with her hand. "There has been so much harm, my love. I will pray for your soul, for the rest of my days."

"Elisabeta!" His roar echoed through the chambers of the castle, but she had the strength to stand and leave.

Vladimir was weak for many years and it was not difficult to keep him from contacting Mina Harker again during her lifetime. We travelled with him and, as his strength returned, we saw him strive honestly to keep his vow even though it was at war with his nature. I would not say that we became friends, as such, but I learned to respect his judgment and determination.

When Miss Wakely came into my employ I thought long and hard about her looks, so surprisingly reminiscent of Mina Harker. Her temperament was bright and breezy, full of hope and sunshine. I knew from Van Helsing that Mina had been that way once, before the encounter with Dracula cast such a deep shadow over her heart that she never truly recovered. So I deemed it best that Eugenie be protected from Dracula's interest and the only way to do that was to conceal from him her very existence. His passions still ran high, and his wrath was still terrible.

I should have known that they were fated to meet.


	3. Dipa

When I was just a bairn, maybe eight or nine years old, I don't remember now, I stumbled down the steep bank beside a burn and found another girl there. She was larger than I was, with curly red hair and pale skin in contrast to my own dark black and brown. She was wearing a homespun kirtle that looked too small on her and was crouched on the grassy bank peering into the stream. She held a small net in one hand.

"My name is Dipa Rahman," I said. "I'm descended from the Indian Kings of old," I added, anxious to impress. To all my knowledge, even then, the statement was an out-right lie but it was one my parents were fond of repeating when they wanted to claim status. Like all children I aped the behaviour of my elders.

"Shona Ross, my parents are tied to the Lord McAddan." She stood up and hovered uncertainly on the bank. I smiled, secure now in my superiority over any mere serf, and disposed to be friendly.

"Where's he from?" I asked. I think I had some thought of triumphantly carrying the information back to my father, though I have no doubt he had already discovered who owned the lands through which we travelled.

"If you follow the stream up yon valley, you'll soon enough see the village and the castle."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"There are minnows in the stream."

I sniffed to indicate my disdain for such peasant-like fare. "We have swan every night for dinner," I lied with conviction. I had read in a book that kings ate swans.

"We have a pig, and a goat. We kill the pig every year. We wait until the goat is old though. Minnows are nice. Though they don't taste much like pig or goat."

"I bet I can catch more minnows that you can."

"You don't have a net," Shona observed astutely.

"I'll borrow yours," I returned with the kind of conviction only small children have. The conviction that the world will organise itself for your convenience.

Luckily for me Shona was an agreeable child, though she wasn't as easy to push around as my little brothers were.

We spent most of the afternoon fishing for minnow in the stream. Shona had two buckets so for a while we had one each, until I got fed up with the speed hers seemed to fill compared to mine. Once we'd filled both buckets we played tag and hide and seek along the bank until dusk started to fall. Then Shona headed back to Lord McAddan's village with her buckets of fish and I walked back to the road, the front of my tunic loaded with as many minnows as I could carry.

My family moved on that evening. Even then, the McAddan's had a bad reputation. I was too young to pay much attention to news, but my father decided not to linger on his lands and we were gone by morning.

We were wandering folk all through my childhood. My father worried that if he settled in one place for too long he would become a tied man. He was an engineer and a good one, but he was always chasing rainbows and schemes for getting rich. I thought he was the cleverest man in the world until some time in my teens when it occurred to me he was nothing more than a huckster and a conman, and not a very good one at that. Then we argued and fought, until he died of a fever not long before my nineteenth birthday.

My mother had been bodyguard for a king up in the far north, but when he died she decided it was better to slip away with my father than deal with the assassin. Still, for all she dissembled as an engineer's wife, she made sure all her children could handle a sword while my father taught us the basics of the internal combustion engine, how to distill ethanol, and how to look a man in the eye while telling a whopping great untruth to his face. Our wagon even had an engine concealed under some of the painted wood. Not that we fired it up all that often. My Dad was inclined to say it was too conspicuous and was for emergencies only. Besides which we couldn't have fitted the horses into the wagon which would have been a problem.

I met Shona Ross again twenty years later when I rode down into the lowland stronghold of Dumbarton Rock at the head of my small mercenary force. She was the Captain at the guard post on the old Glasgow Road, a thick set woman with a hefty looking sword strapped to her waist and muscles in her arms that said she could swing it with ease. She wore the McAddan livery of a white eagle on a black ground.

"Dipa Rahman?" she asked when I stated my name.

"Aye, is that a problem?"

"I hope not. I'm Shona Ross, Captain of the Guard."

And though it was many years since our meeting by the stream, I remembered her instantly.

This isn't our tale, though. We just played a small part in a story that had begun over a thousand earlier. A story which I think has almost come to its end.

The old McAddan, who was laird of Dumbarton when I was a child, had been succeeded by his son. `Black' Ralph McAddan had designs on the warmer English counties to the south. I rode into Dumbarton Rock in the spring, by midsummer we were in Lockerbie and before the season ended we had taken the castle at Carlisle and secured McAddan's route down into England. Then we retreated to into the Highlands for the winter.

McAddan had decided to build a fortress at Crianlarich, guarding the routes north and south. We wintered there while the walls grew up around us. Then one evening `Black' Ralph McAddan called me to his presence.

He was a lean and slender, though he had the strength of a man who had trained with the heavy cold iron sword of a warrior. He was only a little older than me but his long brown hair already showed streaks of grey. He was alone in his great hall as I entered.

"Dipa Rahman?" he asked. "Captain Ross speaks highly of you."

"I've tried to keep my men out of trouble. I understood that was required." I wasn't quite sure where this was heading, but in the summer campaign I had kept my small troop on a tighter leash than normal. Shona and her family were still tied to the Lord's estate and she had more sympathy with the villagers caught in the relentless advance of McAddan's army than I did.

McAddan glanced down briefly at a written report on the table before him. 

"We had spies in the hills last week."

"My men are not scouts," I began.

He waved a hand. "Oh, I don't blame you or your men but I would like this particular piece of mischief stopped. I believe one Isabeau Navarre will be making her way here in the next few days. I would like her stopped. Captured or killed; either will serve my purposes."

"Where will she be coming from?"

"The Republic of Norham. I have a couple of spy drones you may take with you and a picture for facial recognition."

I was impressed. I knew Lord McAddan had a lot of leftovers from the Age of Reason. He was a good engineer too. I had seen him discussing blueprints and, from what I had seen, not all his engines of war were hundreds of years old. The spy drones were ancient machines and he lacked the means to reproduce them, although he clearly understood their workings. However, I had never seen anything like them before and I was enough my father's daughter to be excited at the thought of playing with this long lost technology.

Whoever this Isabeau Navarre was, I had no doubt that I would catch up with her.


	4. Eugenie

That afternoon I had to walk down to the little town that nestled in the valley below the school. Darley Bridge is a small place. The abandoned remains of a larger town surround it, full of crumbling brick buildings, but the little stone houses around the bridge are inhabited and there was a small general store and a market on Wednesdays.

I had a list in my hands of things the school needed to purchase, while my head was swimming with the strange events I had just witnessed. Therefore, I was surprised when, with a sudden cracking of broken wood, the stranger from Lady Isabeau's study stepped out onto the road before me and swept a low bow.

"May I be permitted to accompany you on your journey, Miss Wakely?"

I was surprised but could think of no excuse to refuse him. "Of course you may, though you have the better of me. I do not know your name."

"Count Vladimir Dracula."

I must have gasped for that was a dark name from myth and legend.

"You have heard of me, I think. Have no fear. These days I am sworn to the path of good."

I realised I had no fear at all. I instinctively trusted this strange old man and my heart warmed to him.

"Let us walk together then," I said.

He held out his arm courteously. I expected to have him lean on me for support, but his appearance belied his strength and once, when I stumbled, he held me up. Together we walked down to the village, and better company I have seldom encountered on such a journey.

"Your Lady Isabeau will set out on a dangerous journey tomorrow," he said at last. "Her husband is in great danger in the far north."

We had all heard of Captain Navarre. In fact, the whole school was awash with rumours of him, but we had never seen him. Some said that he and the Lady Isabeau were estranged but, on those few occasions when she did speak of him, there was such warmth in her voice that I found the notion hard to credit.

"What will become of the school?" I asked in fear, imagining how we would founder without Isabeau's guidance.

"I believe she means to leave you in charge. She speaks very highly of you." Dracula's voice was full of warmth.

"Me! But I am too young to run the school! I couldn't do that!"

"Here I must agree with the Lady Isabeau. I think you would do very well, but I am going to ask you to refuse."

"Why?" I was so surprised by the turns of this conversation that I could think of little intelligent to say.

"I must accompany the lady for she will have need of my sword. I want you to come with us as well. Two people is a small group for such a journey."

"But... I have no experience beyond this valley and the school. I am hardly made for adventure," I objected.

The Count stopped and took my face in his hands, and I found myself staring deeply into his eyes. "Miss Wakely you have within you reserves of great courage, and great compassion. You also have youth and hope and joy on your side which neither myself nor the Lady Isabeau enjoy. We need you with us. I know how great my need is and though I do not think the Lady Isabeau understands how much she needs someone like you, she does. You must come." He enunciated each of the last three words separately as if the force of his will alone could make it so.

"Sir," I spluttered.

He dropped his hands suddenly and stepped back, leaving me blinking in the winter dusk. "My apologies. I have been too forceful."

"No, I... What need could the Lady Isabeau have of me?"

"The Lady Isabeau holds great sadness in her heart. She understands duty better than she does passion. She was once a great soul, much as you are, but she has lost it. I think she needs to remember who she is before these events conclude and I think you are the person to remind her."

"And what need do you have sir?"

He looked away from me then. "I have always needed you."

Incredible as his words were, I believed him implicitly. Obviously, I would go with them.


	5. Dipa

I guessed that Isabeau and her party would ride up the old M6, taking the most direct route into Scotland. They were travelling mostly at night, I assumed in an attempt to evade our spies, but the drones picked them up before they were far north of Preston. There were only the three of them, and I was foolish enough to mistake their confidence for stupidity.

I chose a place for an ambush: a hillside in Cumbria where the embankment was steep on one side of the road and plunged into a valley on the other. Trees and bushes grew thickly on both slopes.

Just before dawn, the spy drones detected their approach. In the dim morning light I studied them from hiding. Isabeau herself was unmistakable. I had been told she was fair. She sat tall and proud on her palfrey, golden hair framing her face like a halo beneath the deep blue hood of her cloak. She was every inch a noblewoman. Beside her rode a younger woman, dark where Isabeau was fair, with black hair fastened neatly in a bun. She was clothed in a dark green riding habit. She was almost as fair of face as her leader, but appeared less remote and unwordly. The last of the group was an elderly man, in a cloak of vivid scarlet. He appeared ancient, with snow white hair and wrinkled skin stretched hungrily over bones. I discounted him, which was a mistake.

As they passed by our hiding place I gave the signal and my men fell upon them. I engaged Isabeau. McAddan had told me she was trained with a sword, but largely untried in battle. I wasn't surprised, therefore, that she fought. It was quickly obvious, though, that it had been a long time since she had used the weapon in earnest, if ever. Her gladius, though light, was also shorter than my own weapon which put her at a disadvantage. Before I pressed my advantage, I took a moment to survey the battle. The dark-haired girl had dismounted and was pressed against the old barrier of the motorway. She had a small dagger in her hand; much good would it do her. However, everywhere the man moved there was devastation. Already I could tell that half my force were slain. His speed was terrible to behold, as was his fury. I couldn't track his movements, but he paused as he tore the throat from one of my men. I gained an impression of an animalistic face, fuller and less starved than before, with the light of battle in his eyes and blood staining his mouth and chin.

A mercenary's instincts for survival are naturally well honed. I needed to abandon this fight and escape. I pressed Isabeau quickly, forcing her to the edge of the bushes at the side of the road. Then I raised my sword. It gave her an opening but I was gambling that she was too out of practice to make use of it as I rushed at her. I pushed hard against her shoulders and she slipped sideways off her horse. It lurched forwards and while she scrambled unsteadily to her feet I swung my sword in a low arc, aiming for her head.

The first rays of the sun broke over the tops of the hills. She gasped, her eyes fixated upon my sword and then her body bent, bathed in the sunlight. My sword missed a hawk by inches as it rose, screeching, up into the air.

I risked a look over my shoulder, fearing that the red cloaked man would be pursuing me. As the edge of light from the sun hit him, he stood up straight where before he had been crouched, as if to spring. His shoulders slumped as if worn down with fatigue. Up above, the hawk circled and then dropped down to land on the outstretched arm of the dark-haired girl. I turned my horse, confused and frightened by the outcome of the battle and fled into the hills. But already my thoughts were turning darkly upon the encounter.


	6. Eugenie

It is hard to express my shock and surprise at the events that took place in the final moments of the ambush. Though I had been unprepared for the attack, it was rapidly clear to me that we were in no danger. Vladimir Dracula was fearsome in battle and clearly a match for those who opposed us. I was more taken aback, I fear, by my own feelings. Dracula transformed. His back arched and his face grew longer. Claws sprang out of his hands. He seemed to be half man and half wolf. It was a terrible sight, a thing from primal imagining, and he tore through the soldiers casting blood about him like the spray of the sea in storm. Yet I felt no revulsion, just the comforting certainty that I was protected.

Then Isabeau was unseated from her horse. It happened in a moment. As Isabeau fell beneath the sword of the dark-skinned woman, I saw her transform in the dawn's rays into a large hawk that swooped up into the air with a harsh cry. 

Then the first rays of the morning sun fell upon Dracula. Vladimir returned to his own person, only now his hair had assumed a dark brown colour and his skin was smooth and young. He flinched slightly in the light and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glare.

The hawk circled once above our heads before landing heavily upon my arm. I could feel its claws even through the thick padding of my riding jacket.

"Ah the hawk!" said Dracula and he approached carefully, stopping all movement a few feet from us when the hawk let out a harsh warning call.

"I do not understand," I said.

"It is an old magic. An old curse that is long broken but its effects still linger. She will return to her own form come nightfall and remain in that form until she has need to change again," said Vladimir.

"Then our course is clear. We mount our horses and continue north."

"Indeed and we must talk, now we are free of our chaperone. She will remember little of the events while she is in the form of a bird.

I felt a strange thrill at his words, even though his intent to circumvent the wishes of Isabeau was obvious. I felt a strange connection to him that I did not comprehend and I needed to understand.

At that moment the hawk lifted off from my arm. She circled once in the sky, crying out again, and then was gone.

"Ah, I think Isabeau already makes her own journey north. She also follows her heart, though it has been many years since she allowed it to dictate her actions."

I do not have the words to summarise the discussion that followed. It was in part a confession, I think, for my Vladimir had done terrible things. My heart yearned to tell him he was forgiven, to wipe the pain and the suffering from his brow. But he was as brutal in his honesty as he was in battle. Although he had worked to blot out the evil he had done, he still felt no fellow feeling for any besides myself. His head retained the teachings of the old church and the theorising of a hundred moral philosophers, but to him it was all but dry words on the page, something he understood in the abstract but not in his heart.

"I have no soul, you know," he said and his laugh was dry and bitter.

"I am sure that is not true!" I protested.

He took my hand and held it tight. His gaze upon me was full of warmth but there was a sadness in his words. "I fear it is true. I have learned much about my state in the past centuries. I can dissemble. In particular I can dissemble enough to fool Isabeau who, I think, would not hesitate to end my existence were she aware of this hollow within me. But with you I can not dissemble, for in you, I think, resides all the soul I have."

His hand moved up to caress my face and I leaned into his touch. "I would ask you to consider joining me in this unlife," he said carefully. "It is a terrible burden, but I would be a better man with you at my side and we would have all of eternity together."

"Anything!" I said impulsively.

His whole body shook but he removed his hand from my face. "Think on it for a day and a night at least. Isabeau will never forgive me and my intellect tells me it... is not a simple choice."

He had intended to say something else, I was sure. My heart yearned to join him, but I found I too had doubts about the rightness of the decision.


	7. Etienne

It was in the year 1272 that I stumbled across the soul cages. I was in the high mountains of the Alps at the time, pursuing a rumour of fear and death hidden deep within the remote valleys. My lady Isabeau was with child and had reluctantly agreed to await my return in far off Aquila.

I have always been surprised that the tales of the soul cages have never spread further. I have encountered whispers of them, from time to time, among people as widespread as the nomadic tribes of the Sahara and the fisherfolk of the Nordic fjords. But it has never been a story that has gained much traction, vanishing in the mist in the same way that the cages do themselves.

I rode down a narrow mountain pass and found myself facing a heavy wooden door in the rock. There were many words carved upon it in languages and scripts I did not recognise. But I recognised the Latin inscription for soul cage and the door swung open easily at my gentle touch. Unafraid I entered, convinced that there was a purpose beyond the door. 

What I found was the guardian. Its voice was clear and piping, like that of a child and it broke upon me unawares as I entered into a strange cavern full of light and air.

"What will you exchange for eternal life?"

"I have no use for eternal life. What would that be without Isabeau at my side?"

"She can have life too. But name the price."

I was foolish, and nowhere near young enough to claim youth as an excuse. Nevertheless I had been filled with a terror of losing Isabeau again, completely and utterly, and I grasped at the chance with a mindlessness that now confounds my understanding. 

"I have gold and jewels."

"Trifling things. These are the soul cages and I will take only some part of your soul."

"My soul is sacred to God."

"I only want some part. Your joy, perhaps, or your pain. What need has your God of those? I'll take the heights of passion that drive men to foolish deeds which their reason counsels against."

That was my weakness. I suffered such great terror over Isabeau. It felt like daggers constantly pressing into my heart. It seemed so easy to rid myself of both that and its cause in one moment; no more fear and immortality for myself and Isabeau. 

I think it was a long time before I even comprehended what I had lost. I still felt great love and respect for my wife, and great fondness for our children. I found solace in our lives and satisfaction in the work we did in the name of the Lord. But over the years I realised it was no particular hardship to be parted from Isabeau, for years at a time if need be, as my quests to vanquish evil took me away from her.

Somehow we drifted apart until I felt I scarcely knew her. She acted always as the dutiful and loving wife, but her face no longer lighted at my approach and her hands no longer reached for me. Then it became easier to stay away than come back and face what my bargain had destroyed.

Somehow Black Ralph McAddan learned of the soul cages and the eternal life they had granted to me. I first heard of him in a tavern. I had landed at Dover and was intent on a return to Derbyshire for another extended and cool visit with Isabeau. Yet a man accosted me and launched into a tale of `Black' Ralph, artificer and laird of the lowlands. Isabeau, I reasoned, could wait and I set out to investigate this evil myself, taking with me Count Dracula upon whom I chanced during my route north.

I found Black Ralph's winter fortress north of Loch Lomond. It was built of cold grey stone with thick featureless walls that rose up twenty feet in height. In places the walls were still under construction. I marvelled at the machines I could see lifting the heavy blocks of stone. But then, it was not that machines had ceased to function, only that magic frequently rendered them useless. No one carries a gun now, since all save the meanest of peasants wears a charm against hot lead. Only cold steel continues to cut true.

While Dracula scouted the lands around, I endeavoured to enter the fastness in disguise, anxious to see what I could learn from those who laboured within its walls. A steady stream of trade entered and left each day. I left my knightly trappings behind in the small camp the Count and I had shared, purchased some simple clothing and hired my services as a day labourer to a stone mason working within the castle.

Inside, the castle was a small miracle. Black Ralph had combined the thoughts of the great sorcerers, the architects of this Age of Unreason, with the new alchemists and the mechanical artificers into a hive of stone, clockwork and steam. Vast engines worked and hoisted stone. I also saw slumbering engines of war. I had no doubt that conquest was foremost in the lord's mind.

"Will you come this way, sir." The man's tone was respectful but the weight of his hand on my shoulder told me that this was no request.

I looked up from the block of stone I was hauling to find an entire squad of men behind him.

"You mistake me," I began.

"I think not." He held up a small piece of paper and I was surprised to see a photograph of myself, many years old at this point. I had been expected and the trap had been sprung.

I was led to the great audience chamber where Black Ralph sprawled across a large carved wooden throne.

"Etienne Navarre, former Captain of Aquila," he stated.

"It is many years since I was Captain of Aquila," I pointed out.

"True, a fact I find both curious and interesting."

"It is a mystery." I had been stating and restating this lie for over a millenia. I hardly recalled the narrow alpine valley and the thick door in the rock.

"Come now. We both know that to be a falsehood. You found the soul cages."

"You have the advantage of me," I countered.

"I have the record of those held by the cages," he shot back and he gestured towards a hefty tome that lay open upon a gilded lectern. 

In spite of myself I approached the great book. There were few names, which was no surprise, and more were listed before my own than came after. I was not surprised to see Dracula's name there, nor Ahasver's.

"You wish to be added to this list?" I asked. "I doubt I can help you." Nor would I if I could, but there was no need to say that.

"The cages move, I am aware of that. And yes, I do seek to add myself to the list but I have greater ambitions than that."

I regarded him closely but he held himself with control.

Then he grinned cruelly. "You really have no idea where the soul cages are. Never mind, old chap, I've devised a way to find out, and if the legends are true, the cages will appear in this land before the end of winter. Take him away."

I was locked in a high tower and though I was brought food and water, I received no visitor nor news from the outside word until one afternoon when, in the dying light of the sun, the hawk arrived at my small window.

I coaxed her within the bars of my cell and then concealed her, as best I could, behind the narrow sleeping pallet until darkness fell and she transformed back into Isabeau; beautiful as always, cold, ethereal and remote.

"Navarre," she whispered and for the first time in many years her hand reached out and caressed my face.

Of course, my heart was still cold, though I felt the first wisp of hope that this long darkness might be lifting. I had been pondering Black Ralph's mention of the soul cages and now Isabeau was here and the concern and love in her eyes made me believe that her regard for me had not died but had been concealed somewhere deep within her heart.

So I finally told her the tale I should have revealed a thousand years previously, of the soul cages and the bargain I had made. Her lips closed in a tight line and her hand ghosted over my heart.

"Twelve hundred years," she said. I understood she was pondering all the heartache she had suffered in that time.

I watched her, with a low concern that she might abandon me now, but there was no terror for I could no longer feel such things.

"We must rescue you from this place and prevent Lord McAddan from finding these cages."

"I agree."

Her lips were warm against mine, and when I held her to me I felt a strange sense of belonging. An echo of something I had forgotten.

At dawn she left, flying out through the bars of the window and I felt a desolation I little understood but which awakened memories of our long journey fleeing from the Bishop of Aquila.

A week later Black Ralph came to my chamber, an evil look about his mouth. "All is now prepared," he said.


	8. Isabeau

My heart was heavy when I returned to Vladimir and Eugenie. I sat in silence on my horse as we rode through the night and then spent much of the next day gazing at the hills and thinking on all Etienne had told me.

I was startled when I felt Eugenie drop a cloak about my shoulders. She sat next to me with a shy smile.

"You look sad," she said.

"I have learned a great many things. They explain a lot but I still don't see my way forwards."

"A problem shared is a problem halved, or so they say," she said with a smile.

So I told her of my meeting with Navarre. I told her of the heartache of the many centuries past and how, even now that I knew the cause, I could see no ending to the misery.

She poked thoughtfully at the fire in front of her. "I have been talking with Vladimir."

My heart sank. "I know you must be angry."

"Yes, I think it is fair to say I am angry. I think I understand why you separated him from Mina Harker. At least, I know something of the thinking of the time and you were old even then. However, I do not understand why you did not tell me of all this long ago."

I shook my head. "In spite of everything, he is not a good man. He now desires to be but that is not the same thing. Something is missing. I wanted to protect you."

She looked up at me her eyes shining. "You thought I would choose unwisely and you did not trust me."

"That is not the way of it."

"Yes, Isabeau, it is. You think you see more clearly than I do."

I looked at her long and hard. I had been too wrapped in my own thoughts to pay much attention to her but now I could see that under the anger she was troubled. I wished I knew what Vladimir had told her and I feared I knew what he may have asked of her.

I sighed. I pulled out a letter I had been keeping for nearly five hundred years. I knew I should have given it to Eugenie the moment she met Vladimir but my doubts and fears had continued to hold me back. I felt I now had no choice. I held it out to Eugenie. "You should read this. Mina Harker wrote it for you but there has never been the need for you to see it before now."

Slowly, Eugenie took the letter from me and her eyes were bright. "I will tell you something. You abandoned hope so long ago, that you now can not even see the chance you are being offered. Lord McAddan intends to find the soul cages and, when he does, then the bargain that Navarre made can be undone."

I was stunned, both by the revelation but also by the risks that must be taken. "I must do my best to prevent McAddan ever getting that far."

"So we will. I don't pretend to know the way. But I do know that, whatever happens, the soul cages will be near and then you have a chance."

"I will never find them."

Eugenie scoffed. "The hawk found Navarre did she not? I think maybe her instincts are better than your own. Trust in her, if nothing else."


	9. Mina

Dear Future Self,

I do not know who you are nor what your circumstances may be but I am confident that your heart will be as close to mine as I feel mine is to Elisabeta's.

I hope you have been told the tale of Count Dracula and his quest to find some goodness inside his soul. I do not have the energy to tell it again but I will send my old diaries with this letter and you can read them for yourself.

I am old. I have had a long life and one that to all outward appearances has been happy and fulfilled. I have a husband who loves me and so many children, and now grand-children, that my days are lively and energetic.

And yet, I endlessly regret that propriety bound me into this life. It is as if some part of me was torn away when I abandoned my sweet Prince and returned to dull and dreary London. Never has the path dictated by morality seemed so weary. I can not even tell if it was the right decision, the _just_ decision, because I have learned that the teachings of the Church are not always an infallible guide to the will of God.

Do not feel too sorry for me. I have been happy. I am just aware that it is a shadow of the happiness I could have known. Dracula tried to share his own unlife with me, but that moment of grace we experienced freed me of the curse. Much as I doubt the rightness of my other actions, I do not doubt the goodness of that moment. Therefore, I can not counsel you to accept an offer to share his unlife with my Prince and I am certain he will make one. I had a taste of that. I felt a terrible thirst, not just for the blood that sustains but for what I can only describe as a wild licentiousness. I felt an urge to indulge all the passions without any care or thought for others. I would have killed a child without remorse had the whim so come upon me. 

I heard also what it did to my dear Lucy. 

That is not the solution, so any time you may have together must, perforce, be short. But, if you have the chance, seize that happiness, no matter for how short a time. Have no regrets.

Mina Harker


	10. Dipa

"Come away with me!" I asked Shona once. 

We were just outside Carlisle in the long hot summer of McAddan's campaign southwards. Most of the population had retreated to the castle where the self-styled `Carl of Carlisle' had strengthened the walls using magics he'd purchased from some itinerant magician. The army was setting up camp a safe distance from the walls.

Shona was holding the central pole of our tent upright while I hammered in the pegs that would hold the fly ropes.

"I can't."

"Bugger that, you can. What's McAddan going to do?"

"We'd hardly get three villages away before he'd have me hauled back."

"He wouldn't care. What's one runaway serf to him?"

"I'm the Captain of the Guard and it would be flaunting his authority."

I looked at her grim face and I couldn't deny the truth in the words. But the longer I stayed in Black Ralph's army and the more time I spent with his Captain, the more I tired of the fighting and the destruction. I might have been a mercenary with little conscience and the daughter of a conman to boot, but Shona was better than that and I wanted to take her away and provide her with the garden and the farm she sometimes mentioned in wistful moments.

Then she pulled me close and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. "As you love me," she whispered, "never mention this again."

I had been indiscreet. I have no doubt half the camp knew by evening that I had asked Captain Ross to run away with me.

That, I suspected, was why Ralph McAddan sent me to my death at the hands of Count Dracula. I brooded on this thought as I made my way back north and learned Dracula's name and reputation from the frightened villagers I passed on my way. I had little by way of a plan but I knew that Lord Ralph McAddan was now my enemy and that I would take Shona Ross away from his influence or I would die trying. I took my time, using the spy drones to follow Count Dracula and his party without revealing my presence to them.

I saw the dark-haired girl and the Count himself once, the day before I reached Crianlarich. They were skylined against a red dawn. Her arm was raised and the hawk lift off from it in a lazy elegant circle. Dracula looked over his shoulder and my heart froze as his gaze swept across me. Then they dropped down into the valley beyond. The hawk flew north.

When I was on the final approach to Castle McAddan I took myself cross country, anxious to avoid being caught on the road. I climbed slowly to the top of the ridge behind the village and lay myself flat, looking down into the vista below. It was dusk but I could see that the castle was almost empty. The army camp that had over-spilled its walls and tumbled down into the village was gone. From the highest tower a sharp red light shone out through the darkness. I could not tell where it went but it was clear and bright against the darkening sky.

"You were betrayed I think," Count Dracula's voice startled me. I had not heard him approach, but he stood beside me in the fading light. One of my drones was clutched in his right hand.

I clawed backwards, seeking my sword. I had placed it on the turf beside me, but even if I had held it at readiness I doubted it would have helped much.

"Do not be alarmed. I believe you may have some use, otherwise you would not have survived thus far. Come, Eugenie is waiting."

His hand closed hard and fast on my shoulder and I was hauled to my feet and pushed stumbling down the steep hillside to where Eugenie Wakely stood with two horses. I gazed at the red beam as I walked and pondered what it meant.

Eugenie's eyes widened when she saw me. "You were there at the attack on the road."

I held my head up high. There was little point denying the claim, not with Count Dracula at my back, his eyes boring into my soul.

"A mercenary. Her sword is always available to the highest bidder."

Eugenie's face creased with distaste. "We have little money."

"Ah, but I have offered her life. I don't think it is a trade she will refuse."

I scowled at them both. Dracula was laughing at me. He had no interest in my motives. I suspect he thought revenge played a large part. Which, to be fair, it did. Eugenie was the picture of the ingenue. There was no point in attempting to explain, let alone justify, my life and choices to her.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"We need a plan of the castle. And we need to know where Navarre is being held," said Dracula.

I gestured at the high tower from which the light shone. "Guess."

Eugenie gasped, her gaze drawn to the strange light. 

"Predictable," agreed Dracula. "The plan, please."

I pulled a small notebook from my pack and outlined the interior and defences of the castle for them. I was fairly sure Captain Ross marched with the army and my feet were itching to be away and find them.

"Good. Now you help me take the castle."

"Us," interjected Eugenie. "I am not unskilled with a sword. Isabeau always insisted upon it."

"Isabeau was rusty." I snapped.

Dracula hissed, a sound more like an animal than a person. "She is right. The closest Isabeau ever came to taking a person's life was a wolf-catcher in the thirteenth century. Even then it was not her knife that killed him. She is no person to train someone to fight. This will be dangerous."

"If you leave me behind I will simply follow," Eugenie said and her eyes had the bright certainty of youth.

"Keep her safe." Dracula said to me and I had no doubt that my life would end within seconds of Eugenie's, if harm befell her.

We stormed the front gate of the castle in the darkening night. A ridiculously foolhardy approach and yet with Dracula we overcame the guards with ease. As we raced down the mountain in the dark he transformed into a huge wolf and his power was that of a winter storm, unforgiving and unstoppable.

Eugenie and I flowed in his wake, but I quickly saw where his weakness lay. He fought with the unthinking savagery of the beast and paid little heed to the dangers about him. 

"Can you use a crossbow?" I asked Eugenie.

"Of course," she said. Her voice was steady, though I could see the fear in her eyes.

"Take the bowmen from the walls!" I instructed her, handing her my own. Then I ploughed into the battle after Dracula, fighting away those men who came at him from the sides, before he inevitably turned and ripped the throats from them. Eugenie, I was pleased to note, remained in the shelter of the gatehouse, taking pot shots at the handful of bowmen on the walls.

Only minutes later we were the only living things left in the castle courtyard. Dracula's savagery had little control. As silence fell around us his head turned, seeking more enemies and he growled deep in his throat before turning his attention towards the door into the main hall.

"We must find Navarre." Eugenie placed a hand gently on Dracula's back and he calmed beneath her touch. 

Gradually he unbent, becoming human once more. "You are correct. We will climb the tower."

Eugenie handed him his cloak and he led the way at a run. Eugenie's hair had fallen out of its bun and dark tresses flowed behind her as she followed him. His red coat was stark against her green dress.

In the highest tower we found Etienne of Navarre. He was strapped to a cruciform framework and a huge contraption, looking like nothing so much as a vast red lens in a crystal frame, was placed before him. The red light we had seen in the sky reached into his heart and out across the the landscape below, pointing north. His head was bowed low as we came in.

"What devilry is this?" Eugenie asked.

"The body always seeks its heart, no matter how far away it may be," Navarre whispered.

"I do not understand," said Eugenie.

"McAddan said he had a way to find the soul cages. All he needed to do was find the location of Navarre's heart," said Dracula.

"Your name is also in the book." Navarre said.

"Isabeau did not mention this," Dracula paused at the window.

"I did not mention it to her. I thought you should be told first."

"What did you trade?" demanded Eugenie.

"Elisabeta, I fear I was too grief stricken to know."

"But if we find these soul cages, we can reverse the process. Gain back the soul you lost!" Eugenie's eyes shone bright with hope.

"It is too late for me," said the Count. "I am old. This body, it reverts to senescence when it is not fed by blood. Were I to give back this immortality I would be an old man."

"I would love you!"

"I could not trap you in such a love. You were made to fly free!"

"But you would trap me in unlife? You are not thinking straight, my love." Eugenie grabbed the front of his coat and gave him a shake. "This is your chance. Trust me."

His fingers twisted in her hair. "I do. I will. But it is hard." He bent his head so their foreheads met.

"Enough of this," I said. "Time is wasting. Black Ralph seeks these soul cages of yours. No doubt he longs for immortality and I don't suppose he'll miss his heart that much."

"His ambitions are wider than that, else he would not have taken the army with him," said Etienne. "I think he intends that they shall all become immortal."

My heart grew cold. Shona Ross marched in that army. I was terribly afraid that she would feel bound to make any bargain that Black Ralph ordered of her. The thought of her becoming cold and remote was terrible.

"Then we have no time. We must ride!" said Dracula.

"You killed all the horses in the stables." I could not help pointing out. 

We had only the horses that Eugenie and Dracula had ridden to the castle. I learned later that the third horse used by Isabeau had been left in Inverarnan but even had I known I would have begrudged the time wasted in collecting it.

"Then those of us who can, must run."

It was, perhaps, the strangest ride of my life. Eugenie rode in the lead, her long hair streaming out behind her and the folds of her dress billowing in the wind. I rode behind and, beside us, ran the two great wolves, following the twists and turns of the old roads that would take us towards the current location of the soul cages.


	11. Isabeau

When I awoke it was dusk. I found myself before the great oaken doors that Navarre had described to me. Eugenie had been correct and the hawk's instincts were truer than my own. She had found Navarre's heart when I could not.

The doors lay at the end of a short narrow crevice in some remote valley. I could see the glimmer of a lake in the dying light of the sun. Sheer rock walls rose up on either side of me but then opened out onto a gentle hillside. It was as if someone had taken a great knife and carved a slit into the hill and placed the doors of the soul cages at the end.

I recognised the carvings on the doors. They were written in many languages, some I had never seen before but many of the scripts and traces of words were familiar from books I had studied down the centuries. A pale blue dress hung beside the entrance. It was clear that I was expected.

I waited until dawn before I attempted any entry. During the hours of darkness I am trapped in my human form and I wanted the option of shape-shifting before I entered that forbidding gateway.

Navarre had failed to describe the interior of the soul cages. I think at the time he was unable to comprehend what he saw. But I saw parallel lines of power running close together in a hundred different directions so that the walls and floor and ceiling were scrawled with them. As I touched them, feet falling on stone, hands grazing the walls, they sprang into light. It reminded me of nothing so much as early artwork depicting the inside of computers. It was no vast echoing chamber, but an intricate maze of translucent screens with a golden tracery of light streaming through it.

"What would you trade for immortality?" The voice was disembodied, high and clear like that of a child.

"I come to trade my immortality back. I wish to return my eternal life and that of Etienne Navarre, for that part of his soul that you took."

"You want the return of his passion?"

"Yes."

"But you have already enjoyed the extended life. There is still a price to pay. What part of your soul will you exchange for his?"

For that I had no answer.


	12. Dipa

We made good time on our wild ride through the hills. I kept the drones flying above us and felt a certain satisfaction at turning McAddan's technology back on him. His army stuck to the old wide roads that would take them several abreast and so we took the smaller side routes, wagon tracks and forest paths that were treacherous and the haunts of highwayman and brigands. 

Strangely, we were troubled by neither highwayman nor brigand.

Towards dawn we came down into a valley on the shores of Loch Etive. There was no road into it but we could see Black Ralph's army emptying through a pass that led from the old road through Glencoe. McAddan clearly knew exactly where he was going.

Navarre led us unerringly to the entrance to the soul cages which was just as well for they were concealed in a narrow gap in the hillside and we could have wasted hours looking for them. Black Ralph had forward scouts throughout the countryside and before long we had outriders at our heels. The sun finally rose above the mountains just as the crevice came in sight. Navarre and Dracula both transformed back as the sun's light fell upon them. To my amazement both continued to run barefoot across the frozen ground. They barely faltered as backs straightened and front paws were lifted off the earth and transformed into hands. I fired my crossbow at our pursuers, causing them to pause and hang back. When I reached the crevice, Navarre and Dracula were already dressed. Eugenie stood before the doors. She reached out to touch them and they swung open. Carefully, she walked inside. Navarre was on her right and Dracula on her left, but they both hesitated at the threshold.

"I may not enter," Navarre said and his voice was full of defeat.

"I feared as much. I did not think it a bargain someone could make a second time." Dracula's voice almost held a note of satisfaction.

Eugenie turned to face us from within the darkness beyond. Her face was stricken.

"Go!" I said. "I will protect them."

This seemed to reassure her, though I could feel the incredulous gazes of both Navarre and Dracula upon me.

As Eugenie vanished into the interior I turned to face them. "What? I can protect the pair of you from your own idiocy if nothing else."

Because seriously, who trades part of their soul for immortality and doesn't think that there might be a catch?

It was mid morning by the time Lord McAddan had his army arrayed below us. The scouts waited on the slopes below the entrance just out of reach of our crossbows. Dracula was still flushed with youth. But in the height of the day we would have only the strength of his arm to aid us, not the supernatural power of his wolf form. 

However, the three of us spanned the narrow crevice with ease. The army was forced to approach us in a narrow file, and the slaughter began. Navarre and Dracula both carried heavy broad swords which had been transported by the horses. The swords were almost as long as I am tall. In the dark Dracula could wield his single handed but by the light of the day he was forced to place both hands upon the hilt. I had a lighter sword, trusting to swift feet and a good aim more than brute strength.

I had fought alongside many of McAddan's soldiers but I hadn't made many friends. I had continually told myself I would be moving on at season's end. There was little recognition in their eyes as they fell before us. Before long the way was blocked by a mound of bodies and their comrades had to pull the corpses out of the gap in order to reach us.

The sun was high overhead in a pale winter mid day when Shona appeared in the gap. She was alone. Her cropped red hair framed the pale skin of her face. She held her sword with its tip pointed downwards, hovering just above the frozen ground.

"Dipa?" she asked.

"Shona, you don't have to do this." My heart was heavy.

"You know I do. I have my allegiance."

"Interesting," I could have done without Dracula interrupting, just at that point, but a thousand years of life had done little to curb the natural arrogance of the Count.

I glared at him. "It's not that interesting. Indentured servitude has been the status quo for the past two centuries."

"No, it is interesting that this soldier of all the ones we have seen is sent alone and, I think, she is known to you."

Shona ignored him and fixed her gaze on me. "Lord McAddan is going to carry on sending us." Her voice choked. "My men, into this gap until you let him past."

"We can't do that Shona."

"Dipa," she started, but her voice faltered.

"Shona, please, you don't have to fight here." I was repeating myself in my desperation.

Shona raised her sword and I readied my own. If anyone was going to do this I was damned if it was going to be Navarre or Dracula.

"This is wrong." Etienne Navarre's voice was slow and heavy.

"We can not let Ralph McAddan in," I hissed.

He shook his head. "Some things have too great a price."

"Not this I think," interrupted Dracula.

Navarre's gaze focused upon him. "You have always doubted the goodness of the Lord."

Dracula snorted. "I remain in doubt about his existence."

"In spite of everything?" Navarre sounded shocked.

"Yes, in spite of everything. I can not explain much of what has become of us, but we live in the Age of Unreason. People no longer expect everything to make sense."

Great they were having a theological discussion.

"This choice is mine," I insisted.

"Do not make the mistakes I have made," said Navarre. "I have given in to despair and I have refused help that was offered. Let your friend enter."

His hand closed about my elbow and his voice dropped low. "I hope it is not just Eugenie who stands within. Someone camped here last night. We are not the last line of defence."

I looked at Shona. I had no wish to fight her and I could see she had no wish to fight me.

"Very well, you may pass," I said.

"A wise decision." Black Ralph appeared and he moved in close behind Shona. I caught a glimpse of a crossbow in his hands, no doubt levelled at Shona's back. He must have been concealed, just out of sight, behind the rocks at the narrow entrance to our crevice.

"Just you and this woman. The rest remain outside," said Dracula.

Black Ralph's head twitched. "If you can hold them."

I stepped aside and allowed the two of them to pass, Shona shot one long glance at me, laden with meaning I could not interpret.

"Immortality is over-rated. Don't give away anything I would miss," I called out to her.

Then we closed ranks once more as the soldiers began to march into the pass, and the slaughter began again.


	13. Eugenie

"Eugenie!"

Isabeau flew to my side as I entered the strange room.

"Isabeau, you are alive!"

"And well," she said.

"What would you trade for immortality!" Rang out a strange voice.

Isabeau pulled me close so she could speak low into my ear. "I have to find something to trade, that I can save Navarre." 

"And Vladimir. His soul is here too! I hope he can be saved as well."

Yet, though we talked long we were no closer to agreeing a course of action when the door to the soul cages swung open with a creaking of wooden timbers. Isabeau instantly raised a finger to her lips and pulled me behind one of the strange screens that filled the space. Rivulets of light streamed across our view.

A tall man, presumably Black Ralph, stalked into the chamber and my heart ran cold wondering what had become of the three we had left to guard the entrance. A large woman walked before him with a crossbow pointing at her back. I saw her scan the space and then she sheathed the large sword in her hands.

"Well, you're here," she said.

"That I am, Captain Ross. But I want to know where that young woman is. The one who came into the valley with those three outside."

Black Ralph moved cautiously around Captain Ross keeping a safe distance, the crossbow steadily pointed in her direction. She regarded him with a look of contempt. I felt Isabeau's hand on my arm and she gently unsheathed my dagger from where it hung at my belt. Then she nodded slightly, indicating that I should move forwards and reveal myself while she remained concealed.

"So, what are you proposing to trade for immortality?" Captain Ross asked.

"Oh, I'm not asking for immortality for myself, at least not yet, nor do I intend to trade my own soul."

"What is it you trade?" asked the disembodied voice.

"I want my soldiers to be invincible. No mere charm against hot lead, but I want their wounds to heal. My army will sweep through Albion!"

"And what will you trade for this?"

"Their reason. They will each, unthinkingly obey my orders. I want to trade their reason for invincibility."

"You can not do that!" I broke out from behind my cover. My outrage was genuine and I hoped it would prevent Black Ralph from asking why I chose to reveal myself unnecessarily.

Lord McAddan instantly moved the crossbow so that it covered both Captain Ross and I. He circled further towards the screen that concealed Isabeau.

"Why not? They are my serfs."

"That does not entitle you to their souls."

"Even though they are out there dying for me, one after another?"

"It is not the same," I insisted.

"They will not agree to it at any rate," the red-haired woman said. 

"They do not have to agree, do they?" he asked of the cages.

"Are they yours to command?" asked the voice.

"They are."

"Not in this!" I insisted.

"They belong to me. They are my property. That is the law of the land."

"Then they are yours to offer," agreed the voice.

"No!" Captain Ross lifted her sword in an arc and brought it down towards Black Ralph.

He dodged backwards loosing the crossbow bolt and the Captain dropped to the floor with a cry. 

It was at that moment Isabeau appeared from behind the screen, her face a cold mask. McAddan must have sensed the movement for he dropped the empty crossbow and his hand went to the sword at his belt. Isabeau was right before him however and grabbed his shirt. 

She stabbed upwards and Black Ralph sank slowly to the ground, leaving a blood red trail down the front of her gown. He gurgled quietly deep in his throat.

"This is the first man I have ever killed with my own hands," she announced. "I trade the cleanliness of my hands for the return of Navarre's heart."

"Done," said the peeling voice.

I met her eyes from where I knelt beside the Captain. The bolt had entered the woman's leg just below the faulds that hung from her breastplate. It would not be fatal if we could get her to a healer.

"Eugenie," Isabeau began and her voice was low.

What would I trade? The thought had been haunting me but I knew the answer in my heart. "I will give my youth for Vladimir's conscience."

"No Eugenie!"

I could already feel the strength draining from me.

"Done!" said the voice.

I raised my hands and watched the skin stretch over the bones and form into wrinkles.

"Eugenie."

"No regrets," I said with determination.

Then we opened the doors and called for help.


	14. Dipa

Black Ralph's troops showed little enthusiasm for the battle once he had gone. I had never thought I would feel such relief at the cessation of hostilities. They are rarely a cause for celebration, but normally there is a certain grim satisfaction at a job well done.

The army faced off against us, but no one moved to advance. 

Next to me Dracula suddenly staggered and clutched at his chest. The colour in his chair bleached away and his skin pulled itself into wrinkles across his face. "Something has happened," he gasped.

Then the wooden doors of the soul cages swung open.

"We need a healer!" called a voice.

Eugenie and Isabeau stood side by side. Eugenie's hair was completely white, its long curls falling in snowy waves across her back and shoulders. There were wrinkles in the corners of her eyes.

Dracula let out a long wail and she ran to him.

Isabeau was soaked in blood. Navarre called out her name. She met him half way but her hand gripped his, holding him at bay while she looked across at me.

"There is an injured Captain within," she said shortly. 

I was running past her in an instant. But I was distantly aware of Navarre's arms entwining round her body and his face burying itself in her neck.

I found Shona lying on the floor of the soul cages. 

"I always said going against Lord McAddan was a bad idea," she croaked out.

"Lie still," I was too busy checking over her injuries to talk, though the glint of humour was was good sign.

The crossbow was lodged in the fleshy part of her leg and I felt around it, trying to work out where muscle and bone were.

"You're going to have to push it through," she whispered, her hand grasping my arm.

I nodded carefully. 

"What will you exchange for immortality?" A voice rang out clear and cold across the room.

I looked about in surprise. 

"It's the cages," Shona whispered.

"Nothing, thank you," I said, only half paying attention while I weighed options for dealing with the arrow in Shona's leg.

"No one enters the soul cages without wishing to exchange something," the voice began to wheedle.

A faint sound alerted me to look up. The doors were slowly moving closed. Without a second thought I grabbed Shona under the arms and began to drag her towards the entrance. She cried out with the pain but I didn't have the time to worry for the doors were edging ever closer together.

"Run!" she whispered.

"Don't be a daft fool. As if I'm going anywhere without you."

As soon as I reached the threshold, Isabeau and Navarre were beside me helping to lift her through just as the doors banged together with an air of finality.

Shona remained conscious just long enough to audibly hand control of the army to Captain Navarre. In the absence of Black Ralph and faced with the combination of Dracula, Navarre and myself, the soldiers were willing enough to accept the change of leadership without challenge.

There was a chirurgeon who tended to Shona's leg and dosed her up with morphine. That lasted long enough for us to make our way to McAddan's empty fortress.

I have been laird of Crianlarich for twenty three years now. Shona has been at my side all that time. Captain of the Guard and lady of the manor rolled into one. The stories have reached us, of course, of Dracula and Eugenie withdrawing to run Isabeau's school in the Republic of Norham while Etienne and Isabeau Navarre have travelled the world. When stories are told of a sorcerer overthrown or a tyrant destroyed the names of the Navarres are often attached. So much so that these days I think half the tales must be myth.

This morning a messenger brought me a thick pile of papers, which I have attempted to piece together into this narrative. He also brought a letter.


	15. Isabeau

Lady Dipa Rahman, Laird of Crianlarich.

This day we put Eugenie and Vladimir Dracula in the ground. They had lived twenty years together which was more than I had expected. Eugenie was radiant to the last, though pale and fragile as a paper sculpture. The light seemed to shine from within her. Vladimir worshiped her until the end as she did him. He did not outlast her. As her life faded he became an empty husk clutching onto her hand. When I reached out to comfort him he crumbled to dust beneath my fingers.

My ears may have deceived me but in the empty room I briefly thought I heard their voices, raised in joy and laughter fading off into the far distance.

I trust that the two of them will now find genuine rest.

The story is yours to tell now. I find it is too close and painful for me to set out clearly. But I have assembled some notes, and some that Eugenie left behind. I hope you find they are of use.

As for Navarre and myself, my heart is glad each day we are together. To explain both what we lost and what we regained feels impossible to me. The depth of our feelings for each other never altered and yet for a thousand years they were frozen in ice. I hardly recall those years compared to the vividness of the past two decades. 

I would not be immortal again, but we can no longer deny that we are aging. When the cold wind blows in from the east, my bones ache in the morning sun.

My little school in the Derbyshire Dales flourished under Eugenie. It is full of a strength of purpose and a brightness of vision I could not bring to it in all my years here. But Eugenie, throughout her so terribly shortened life, burned with a conviction that there could and should be goodness and justice and it is the duty of each of us to use those materials to hand, be they science or magic, to spread peace and stability.

The first trains ran from Derby to Nottingham last year in a scheme she pushed and argued for, and there is talk of laying a telegraph cable from the parliament buildings down to the ports on the south coast. Who knows, perhaps one day we can link up with your own kingdom in the north.

It is not a work Navarre and I will allow fall to waste now Eugenie is gone. Etienne may not have the strength to throw his great sword as he once did. But he has the strength to teach and the conviction to continue this fight. We intend to settle here at last and make this place our final home.

Etienne and I give thanks to whatever God or gods there be that we found our way to each other once again. We hold each other close and I hope we shall never be parted again.

Yours,  
Isabeau Navarre


End file.
